


when I say I love you

by freezerjerky



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: “I love you,” Newt says, foolishly. They’ve only been together for a few weeks, and for most of that time their relationship has been exactly the same as it was before they started dating. Newt’s loved Hermann since before they’ve been dating though. He’s loved him since the moment he put his thoughts on paper and received an answer that meant something. Perhaps this is dramatic, but there’s a kernel of truth in this.“I love you too,” Hermann answers, turning to him with a smile. He doesn’t even pause the movie and turns back around to watch it.in which Newt doesn't believe the most important thing of all





	when I say I love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarah1281](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/gifts).



> Something for the always lovely Sarah <3 No notes for this one, just lots of Geiszlers running about!

When Newt says it for the first time, it’s an accident. They’re sharing a bottle of contraband vodka as they sit huddled on Newt’s bed, pretending to watch a movie that they’ve both seen about a dozen times. This is what life in the Shatterdome has become, when they barely have time to breathe, let alone to conceive of getting out of the ‘dome and into the world at large. That requires effort, that requires being too far away from where they may be needed.

Hermann looks like he’s half asleep, lips drawn in a tight line as he watches the film. There isn’t the barest hint of amusement on his face even though he’d insisted that this was one of his favorites. This is the face he makes when he’s concentrating on something, and it’s cute and charming in its own way, though Newt is not sure that anyone besides himself would say so. Newt’s fingers graze against his as he hands the bottle back to him and Hermann wraps his fingers around it carefully. He doesn’t take a drink.

“I love you,” Newt says, foolishly. They’ve only been together for a few weeks, and for most of that time their relationship has been exactly the same as it was before they started dating. Newt’s loved Hermann since before they’ve been dating though. He’s loved him since the moment he put his thoughts on paper and received an answer that meant something. Perhaps this is dramatic, but there’s a kernel of truth in this.

“I love you too,” Hermann answers, turning to him with a smile. He doesn’t even pause the movie and turns back around to watch it.

Newt watches him for a few moments longer, frowning. He takes the bottle from Hermann’s hand and takes a deep swig, sputtering as he realizes the error of drinking too much in one go. He’d at least hoped for a kiss, or a pause, or something more meaningful. From that moment, something like doubt settles into his chest and as much as he tries to, he cannot bring himself to shake it.

 

Newt tries again the next morning, kissing Hermann awake so sweetly. He half whispers it against his mouth and Hermann doesn’t even smile this time, even though he says “I love you too.” It’s abnormal for Hermann to not smile when he wakes him, he’s always eager for morning affection, he’s always smiling despite being woken. Instead, he looks miserable and run down and Newt doesn’t press his luck for a more affectionate answer. He gets why, or he thinks he does. 

The world’s at war and they’re standing in the middle of it. People in the Shatterdome don’t have time for personal lives outside of the ‘dome, so anything that isn’t wrapped up in their work lives isn’t going to happen if it’s not already happening. Newt had gone on a few casual dates early on but he didn’t have the time for anything serious, not until he fell into Hermann’s bed. That was easy. They worked together, their rooms connected directly to the lab. He could literally talk about work until he was ready to fall asleep and resume as soon as he woke up. Falling in love was just convenient, it made him feel like he had a normal relationship. It made him feel like one day he could have the white picket fence and two and a half kids (even if that’s not what he wants.)

But their relationship isn’t normal. They don’t have dates, they barely even hold hands. It’s sex with benefits, and it’s not even sex all that often on busy weeks. (And most weeks are busy.) Sometimes they’ll talk about life after the war and Hermann might mention something about their life together, but they had a life together before they started sleeping together. They could still be friends or colleagues.

“I’m gonna get us some breakfast,” Newt says, sitting up in bed. Hermann doesn’t stir. “D’you want burnt toast or overcooked turkey bacon today?”

“Can’t I have both?”

“You think you’re that special, hmm?” 

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask with the hangover I have,” Hermann mutters, pulling a pillow over his head. 

“Lightweight,” Newt remarks, patting Hermann’s leg before he stands to find his clothes. “Meet you back here or in the lab?”

“The lab, Newton. Hangover or not, we must get to work.”

Newt rolls his eyes, searching for a clean shirt in his allegedly clean pile of clothes. No matter how much of a disaster his love life is, he does still have work to do. He can focus on this and not think about anything else. He must think of his work.

 

There’s really no purpose, Newt thinks, in him saying those words again yet. He’s only going to get hurt, he’s only going to end up devastated when the answer comes back hollow. Maybe he can wait for Hermann to say them first, just to test if he means them. Except that doesn’t really work at all, because Hermann isn’t really good with things like holding emotional conversations or being forthright with something that he’s feeling. 

They’re working late in the lab together and Hermann’s insistent that he takes a nap, but Newt takes some convincing. Hermann has to glare at him pointedly, given him the sternest look he can manage until Newt finds his way to the couch, pulling the blanket on the back over himself. He’s tempted to toy on his phone or go through one of Hermann’s giant stack of sudoku books but he can sense that Hermann must be staring at him. No, sleep is the only option and he lets himself drift off because Hermann won’t let him sleep too late tonight.

When he wakes up, Hermann’s lifting his legs to settle on the couch beside him. 

“Go back to sleep, Newton. I’m only resting for a few moments.” Hermann rests his hand on Newt’s leg.

He smiles at him blearily. It’s such a tender moment and he wants to keep it forever. “I love you.” He can’t help the way it spills out, how it feels tumbling out of his sleepy mouth.

Perhaps Hermann answers him appropriately, but he doesn’t actually hear. He’s so quickly fast asleep. All he knows is that when he wakes up again, Hermann’s left the lab and he has to make his way back to his room alone. He could have gone to Hermann’s room and he suspects he wouldn’t have kicked him out for trying to climb into his bed, but it’s clear sharing a bed wasn’t a priority that night, so he thinks it’s best to go back to his own space, to give Hermann full use of his own room. He doesn’t manage to sleep for the rest of the night, even if he’s dead tired. Instead, Newt spends his time staring up at the ceiling of his room, wondering what his life will come to after they’ve saved the world. The fear of loving someone so much, so deeply, and then knowing that he’s likely to choose another path is too much to contend with in the dead of night. It’s best if he realigns his expectations and priorities in his relationship. Worse, he realizes, is the expectation that this relationship is going to end with some profound world ending bang and they won’t be able to explore anyway.

He’s at the lab early the next day, though he’s still tired. Hermann gives him a look of surprise when he arrives in the lab, but settles down on his side to go to work. They sit in companionable silence until he’s time for lunch.

“You were gone when I came back for you last night,” Hermann explains. “I’d left for just a few moments.”

“Yeah I-” Newt shrugs and switches off his head lamp. “Woke up alone and had assumed you were already in bed. Didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“It’s not, I’m simply explaining why I wasn’t there when you woke up.”

“You don’t need an explanation for that, Herms. I get it. It’s all fine.”

For a moment Hermann’s expression is perplexed and then he strides forward, out of the lab. Despite himself, Newt follows him to the mess hall to eat lunch together. It’s not as though he can suddenly build a life outside of Hermann, nor does he want to. He’s going to hold onto this tender thing for as long as he can, no matter how much heartbreak it’s going to bring him in the future.

 

Newt receives an email that his father will be visiting soon, for a few weeks. This isn’t the first time Jacob has come for a visit, but it’s the first in a long while. In the email he promises to entertain himself throughout the day while he’s there, so long as Newt is able to spare a few hours for him now and then. Newt’s sure he must have something better to do, and he says as much in his email response, but his father insists that he’s retired now and really doesn’t have anything better to do these days.

“My father’s coming to visit,” Newt remarks, as they sit in Hermann’s room. Hermann’s at his desk typing away as Newt works on his tablet.

Hermann looks at him over his reading glasses for a moment. “Any particular reason?”

“I think he’s just bored and getting old.” Newt shrugs.

“Better yours than mine.”

That pulls a laugh from Newt. He’s met Lars Gottlieb on a few occasions, usually when he’s coming to pass judgment on the PPDC and anyone who doesn’t support his awful Wall of Life. One of Newt’s most persistent fantasies involves punching him, but he knows he won’t act on it. He’s reasonably assured that Hermann likes Jacob more than Newt likes Hermann’s father. Newt’s biased towards his father, but he thinks Jacob is pretty hard to dislike. He’s got the friendliness of his son tempered with age and a bit less profound anxiety.

“I tried to ask if Illia is coming too but you know how that is. He always decides last minute, or he thinks it needs to be a surprise.”

“If you plan anything, let me know,” Hermann responds as he turns his attention back to his computer. 

“We’ll probably go for dinners a few times, mostly I just have to make sure he doesn’t wander or Illia doesn’t try to tinker with anything he shouldn’t.”

“You can’t even keep yourself from doing either of those things.”

“But I have PPDC credentials.”

The eyeroll is palpable, Newt can feel it down in his bones. It only makes him love Hermann more when he’s like this, when he’s not afraid to be this awfully judgemental person. Jacob will probably want to see Hermann, he knows, and Newt will have to try to explain their relationship to him. The last time he visited they were lab partners and tentative friends. Now they’re something else entirely, but something that Newt’s not really sure about labelling. They sleep together, they spend their free time together, so he supposes they’re a couple, even if it won’t last forever. It still means something now.

“You could take him on a day trip, or even someplace overnight. We’ve been working very hard and I’m sure the Marshal would understand.”

“But what if-”

“When is he visiting?”

“Three weeks.”

“According to my predictive model, there’ll be an attack in a week and that means we’ll have plenty of time to-”

“A week and we’re just sitting here?” Newt grips the edge of the bed and leverages himself to stand. He’s feeling the rush of adrenaline, the terror tinged sensation of anxiety.

“Newton, sit back down.”

“We can’t just sit here when the world’s tumbling down around us, Hermann!” He listens, though, settling back on the bed.

Slowly, Hermann closes his laptop and rises to his feet, walking the few short steps to the bed without his cane. He sits on the edge of the bed next to Newt, taking his hand in both of his.

“Newton, dearest, I know you want to be always doing something, but there’s only so much you can do.”

Newt’s face settles into a frown. “I can do a lot, we can do a lot. Why aren’t you more concerned about this?”

“Because I’m more concerned about you,” Hermann answers. “And me. And I know if we’re burnt out we can’t do the work we need to do, that no matter how anxious we may be, we need to take care of ourselves. It’s nearly midnight, what would going to the lab do for you now?”

“It would get me out of my head for a few moments.”

Instead of answering him, Hermann moves his hands, takes Newt’s face in them and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead. “There are other ways to get out of that cluttered head of yours. More relaxing and enjoyable ways.”

“That’s a really bad seduction attempt,” Newt remarks, but he doesn’t really mean it.

“Is it working, though?”

“Yeah, of course it is.” He leans in and kisses Hermann, softly and sweetly. If he stopped this now, maybe he’d have less heartbreak later, but he can’t imagine that. He can’t imagine allowing himself to let this go until he’s forced to. It would take far too much work to pry this love from his hands and it would take something he hasn’t discovered yet to pry Hermann from his arms.

 

Hermann snores and he snores loudly. Newt’s been telling him for months that he has a deviated septum or some other problem that causes this, but he hasn’t had the time to do anything about it. There’s a comfort to the snoring most nights, a firm reminder that there’s someone in the bed next to him. Sleep eludes Newt often, his anxiety waking him in the night. When he’s asked Hermann about his own anxiety, his own crippling fear, in the past, Hermann’s always shrugged it off and said it never impacted his sleep. It seems true enough, Hermann sleeps like the dead and then wakes up the moment his alarm goes off.

Newt doesn’t like being alone, he knows that’s part of the problem. He doesn’t want to confront Hermann about anything because confrontation could lead to him being alone, and he’s doing his very best to avoid that. Maybe he could go back to a sensible rivals turned lab partners relationship, but he’d still love Hermann and he’d still want to spend his life with him, and there’s not a lot he can do to counteract those feelings. Maybe Hermann half means it when he says it, maybe everything will be fine.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Hermann mumbles, though he’d been snoring only a few moments prior. It’s still early, very early, probably two hours before Hermann’s alarm will go off, forcing them to wake up, dress, and do their jobs. Newt’s been awake with anxiety related to both his relationship and the end of the world for about two hours already and he’ll probably lay in bed until the alarm goes off with these same thoughts and fears.

It’s dark in the room, but Newt can make out the shape of Hermann’s head, the way his cowlick is sticking up in the back and the frown painted across his mouth. Hermann sleeps soundly and he hates being woken up for this reason. He loves Hermann so much.

“Just stressed out about my dad visiting,” he lies. “I don’t want him to know how stressed I am, which...irony, I know.”

“He’s going to know.” Hermann squeezes his arm, scoots closer. “But you’re in your thirties, Newton. Your father can’t stop you from doing your job and he should trust your ability to take care of yourself.”

This might not have been the best topic to bring up with Hermann, given that his own involvement in this life was at his father’s prompting. Hermann was thrust into this work at the insistence of his father and even though he makes a point of saying how willing he was, and Newt has never found reason to doubt it, he does know that this has brought additional stress. He wants to impress his father, maybe even make his father love him despite everything. The blatant storybook imagery of Lars Gottlieb supporting the building of a wall is not lost on Newt and he suspects it’s not lost on Hermann either.

“I don’t want him to worry,” Newt remarks and it’s true. “But he really should worry, you know? I can’t really try to hide the truth for him or be upset with him for knowing the truth or anything like that.”

“These are dangerous times and we live in a dangerous place, but we are relatively safe given our jobs.”

“We’re essential.”

“Something like that, darling. Now why don’t you try to sleep until the alarm? I will not be pleasant if I don’t have the chance to rest more.”

“Are you ever pleasant?” Newt teases.

“No, so imagine how unpleasant I’ll be if you continue to keep me awake.”

“I thought maybe we could-”

“Absolutely not.” Hermann huffs and rolls over so he’s facing completely away from Newt again. Within a few minutes, the snoring has started back up and Newt does his very best to sleep. He must doze off, because Hermann’s alarm startles him.

 

When Jacob and Illia visit, Newt does not have the forethought to tell either of them to wrap Hermann in a bear hug, nor the forethought to warn Hermann that this is their greeting of choice. In the years that Newt has known Hermann, there’s been precisely one person who’s been allowed to do more than shake Hermann’s hand or clap his shoulder and that’s been Newt. That doesn’t even count, because they’re sleeping together, they’re involved in some capacity. There’s a degree to which the touching is typical, or even expected and there’s no evidence that Hermann would welcome it otherwise.

He shoots Hermann an apologetic glance and tries to read Hermann’s expression as he brushes himself off. He doesn’t look particularly annoyed, but he does look dazed or even confused, and instead of continuing his greetings with Newt’s family he extends his hand to do his greeting in his way. A reset, then, even though Hermann’s met Jacob before. Jacob takes his hand and shakes it with the same warmth he used for the hug.

“I hear you’ve been putting up with my son even more than usual,” Jacob says, winking conspiratorially at Newt.

“Dad, that’s really not necessary.” Newt bites his lip and wills away the rising blush to his cheeks. The last thing he needs is Jacob putting his interpretation of their relationship out in the world. He doesn’t want to create conflict with Hermann until the conflict with the world at large is done.

“I was putting up with him a great deal prior to our relationship, I can assure you, Mr. Geiszler.” Hermann clears his throat, still straightening out his clothes from the rather forward hug he’d just experienced.

The word relationship twists in Newt’s stomach like something dangerous, a flirtation between absolute happiness and the despair of losing what he has with Hermann. Relationships can mean anything, friendships, working relationships, casual people who happen to share a lab but also have sex sometimes (or often), long-term life partners. He supposes all of these apply in a way, or could apply, or have been considered for application.

“Putting up with?” Newt jokes, playfully punching at Hermann’s arm. 

“I choose my words very carefully, Newton, as I’m sure your father does as well.”

It’s Illia and not his brother who laughs at that, the laugh of familial familiarity and knowing better. Newt’s dad says whatever comes to his mind without hesitation, it’s part of his charm. It’s also something that Newt’s picked up from him and part of his own charm. Or so he’s chosen to believe about himself.

“I’ll give you something to put-”

He stops then when Hermann presses a kiss to his cheek. A public display of affection in front of his father, in case Newt needed to be more confused about the state of things than he already was.

“I’ll leave you three to see each other. I’m sure you have much to talk about. I’ll see you later.”

“Have dinner with us,” Jacob cuts in. “I’m sure Newt wouldn’t mind in the least.”

“Yeah, Herms. We’ll pick you up before we go to dinner. You’ll be in the- your room, right?”

“Yes, I’ll be in our room.”

Newt catches the phrasing, the use of our and something so tender swells in him he’s not sure how to contain it. And then there’s the anger underneath that threatens to boil out. Is Hermann putting this on in front of his father? Trying to seem like the perfect boyfriend, like the perfect partner, because it’s what he assumes Jacob wants to see? That seems unkind, Hermann probably doesn’t understand how little Jacob cares what Newt’s doing with his life, so long as he’s happy. Hermann, after all, has a father with a vastly different set of expectations about his life.

For the next few hours, he gives his father and uncle a tour around the Shatterdome, talking with them as though he’d just seen them yesterday as he shows him his favorite spots (some of which he should not be taking guests to.) A few people pass by and see three similar looking men and step back in alarm, it’s the power of the curious Geiszler clan no doubt, that sends others running.

They stop in the lab and Newt tries to explain to them what he’s working on. Both his father and uncle are very smart men, but they certainly don’t specialize in this, nor hold an interest beyond their pride in their child.

“How are things beside with work?” Jacob asks, as they’re crowded around Newt’s desk. Illia is tinkering with a machine Newt swears is broken beyond repair and Newt leans back too far in his desk chair.

“Work sort of is my life here, Dad.” Newt sits up straighter. “I don’t stop working and the only people I see are the people I work with, really. Occasionally I get out into the city for a few hours, but even then I’m thinking about work the whole time.”

“Well, it seems the thing you’ve got going on with Dr. Gottlieb is working out really well.”

Newt barks out a laugh, then covers his mouth when he realizes this is an inappropriate response. 

“Your father,” Illia cuts in, holding out the device to Newt. It’s fixed. “Your father would not believe me that you were in love with that boy when you were writing letters. He’d say things like ‘oh that’s just our Newt, he’s always passionate as soon as he has an interest’, but I knew.”

“It’s not serious,” Newt corrects. “It’s nothing serious, honestly. I mean, it’s not casual either, I wouldn’t tell you if I was just sleeping with him, that would be weird but-”

“But you don’t see yourself spending the rest of your life with him?” Jacob supplies.

“I don’t think he sees himself spending the rest of his life with me,” Newt answers with a frown, he’s pushing a button on the device and refusing to look up at either of the other men.

“Have you ever tried to ask him?” Jacob suggests.

“It’s not that simple. We work together. Our whole lives are together and if we stopped seeing each other right now, that would make things tense and weird but I also can’t keep seeing him if I know for sure he doesn’t feel the same.”

“So you haven’t told him that you love him?”

“No, I have. Several times.” It’s not as often as he’d like, but he can’t help himself.

Jacob places a reassuring hand on his son’s hand. “And he doesn’t say it back?”

“He does, but he doesn’t mean it.”

“Newt.”

“What choice does he have? If he says he doesn’t, it’ll make things tense, awkward. And then we’ll both be alone. I try not to say it too much, but it just spills out sometimes.”

“Newt,” this time Illia supplies his name. “Why are you with someone who you think is consciously trying to hurt you like this?”

He narrows his eyes, first at his uncle, then his father. “Because it’s Hermann, and he’s not doing it to be malicious.”

With a sigh, Jacob pinches the bridge of his nose, pauses a few times in his attempt to speak before he can manage words. Newt feels like he’s thirteen again, getting in trouble for skipping the classes he found boring or for trying to do science experiments on his bedroom floor.

“Has it ever dawned on you that he’s telling you the truth?” Jacob asks, crossing his arms. “That maybe you, my darling son, have some insecurities you’re working through and projecting on your boyfriend?”

“Or he’s just a jerk,” Illia cuts in. “Not worth your time or energy. You can do better than that.”

“Illia.”

“Apologies, I’ll let you do the parenting now.” Illia mimes zipping his lips shut, which Newt has no doubt will last no more than a few minutes.

“Dad, now’s not really the time for talk about how I need to go back to therapy. I know this, I get it every time you remind me on a phone call or in a letter.”

“You’re trying to sabotage your own relationship, even if he’s not in love with you, you’re assuming he never will be without actually talking to him about it.”

Newt’s stopped toying with the device and started to pick at his cuticles. He’s about three seconds away from shoving his fingers in his mouth and starting to chew on his nails, but then he’d end up with a mouthful of chipped black nail polish which is far from ideal.

“Not to sound like every bad teen drama, but you don’t really get it, Dad.”

“Don’t get what?” Jacob asks. “What it’s like to be in love with someone who might not love you back? What it’s like to think you’re building a life with someone and then realize they don’t want this beautiful thing  you want to create with them? Believe it or not, I’m sort of an expert on this.”

“So is this a generational family flaw?”

“Speak for yourself,” Illia says. “I’ve had nothing but good luck in my relationships, you two just like Ice Queens a bit too much.”

That warrants a chuckle from Newt, at least. He would never believe that Hermann’s an Ice Queen or anything of the sort, not when he has so much evidence to the contrary, but the sentiment still stands. It’s difficult to be with someone who is not as adept at showing his emotions as Newt is. But this is only the first time he’s made the parallel to his father’s life.

“Oh, very well. You can take dating advice from your uncle who has been single for two decades now,” Jacob teases.

“And you, Jacob? How many girlfriends have you had?”

“I learned to not try years ago.”

Glancing over at his father, happy and well adjusted, Newt wonders if he should stop trying. He’s had his great love already, even if it won’t work out, and there’s no need to keep trying. 

 

No conversation can keep Newt’s heart from blooming in his chest when Hermann answers the door, looking ever so slightly sleep rumpled. Apparently he used the afternoon away from Newt to take a nap.

“We’re going to that place in the city you like,” Newt says softly. “Do you still want to come dinner?”

“Of course, Newton. I hope you had a good afternoon with your family.”

“Very good. It’s funny to watch people scatter when they realize there’s more than one of me.”

Newt toys with the zipper of his jacket for a few moments when Hermann steps inside the room to grab his own jacket. He’s dressed very well for dinner, wearing one of his less moth eaten sweaters and trousers that nearly fit him properly. Rarely does he dress this well for just Newt and Newt knows this is all to impress his family.

“My dad wants to take the ferry to Macau tomorrow,” Newt explains. “He asked if you wanted to come along, so I told him I’d ask.”

“Gambling with the Geiszlers, what a riveting activity.”

“That’s not a no, Herms.” He ventures to take Hermann’s hand but Hermann does not allow him. They’re still in the Shatterdome, after all.

“I’ll think about it. It doesn’t suit for both of us to be away from the city for a full day.”

“What if I told you I want you there?” Newt ventures, because it’s the truth. “That I wanted to take a day away with you.”

“You’re supposed to be spending time with your family, not with me.”

There’s a voice in Newt’s head screaming that Hermann is his family, and that’s the root of this problem. His love for Hermann is too complicated to be delegated to simply romantic, to be lost by a rejection. But he doesn’t say anything, he can’t bring himself to say anything.

“You know what? Never mind,” he says instead, striding to walk ahead of Hermann.

 

Hermann does come with them to Macau and, while a bit quiet, he doesn’t complain during the trip. Newt’s father and uncle opt to spend some time at the casino gambling, but Newt takes Hermann around the city to see some of the sights. The architecture is an impeccable marriage of two worlds (or so Hermann says) and there’s a fair share of interesting street foods. Besides, it’s easy enough to find people who speak English to help them around the city however they might need.

By evening, they end up in the casino as well and Newt enjoys watching Hermann attempt to count cards while tipsy. He’s not so adept at it, but still leaves the table with winnings, which is more than Newt can say as he digs through his empty pockets. 

“I don’t think we’re going to make the last ferry,” Hermann says nervously, glancing at his watch as they stand near the entrance of the casino.

“The last ferry is at midnight,” Newt remarks, plucking another glass of wine from a passing waiter.

“Exactly, it’s eleven thirty now, Newton.”

“Oh. Shit, I’m sorry, Herms.”

“It’s fine. A hotel room would be rather expensive, but I’m sure in this situation it’s the best possible option.”

“I’ll find my dad,” Newt says, pressing an apologetic kiss ot Hermann’s cheek. “Tell him we’re gonna get a room for the night, if we leave first thing in the morning we can still make it to work on time tomorrow.”

They’d had a perfectly pleasant day that day. It was romantic at times, sweet and charming. It was exactly what Newt had assumed they both needed, and now he’d lost track of time and ruined everything. They shouldn’t have both been away from work for a full day, after all.

Hermann waits for him while he finds his father and uncle, and it’s clear from the way his face is impassive that he’s upset but refusing to say anything. They book a room with two king beds and Hermann heads to the room while Newt finds his father again for the second key. When Newt’s returned, Hermann’s showered and stripped down to his boxers on the bed.

“You can wear the t-shirt I bought today,” Newt remarks, as though that’ll fix anything. “I know you probably don’t want to be-”

“It makes no difference to me, Newton.” Hermann slides under the covers.

“I’m sorry, Hermann. It’s a casino, that’s how it works, you sort of lose track of time and-”

“I didn’t want to be away from my work today, I told you as much, but I was more than willing to come out because you wanted me to.”

Newt stops halfway through pulling off his shirt. “I said I’m sorry, alright? We were having a good day, so can’t we just end it on a good note?”

Instead of giving an actual answer, Hermann sinks down fully, making it clear he’s staying on one side of the bed pointedly. 

“You’ve gotta be at least a little bit mad at yourself too,” Newt snaps. “You could have checked the time at any time. I’d have gone home with you.”

“You’re supposed to be spending time with your father!”

“Now you’re mad that I wanted to spend time with you?” 

“We see each other all day, every day. We’re in each other’s back pockets. This is your father, you only see him every few years.”

Angrily, Newt tosses his shirt aside before he moves to wiggle out of his jeans. If he needed confirmation of where his relationship stood, it’s sitting right in front of him, glaringly obvious, and he’s angry about it. He’s angry at Hermann and he’s angry at himself for having anything resembling hope about their future together.

“I can’t see both of you?” Newt asks. “Can’t possibly multi-task, you probably think I’m too stupid for that, don’t you?”

“When the hell did any assessment of your intelligence come into play. I was merely-”

“Merely acting out like a child, Hermann. Congratulations, you’re the one being a child because you continue to mistreat my feelings for-”

In the next moment, Jacob and Illia push into the room and Newt looks over at them. He’s waving his jeans in the air rather dramatically and has to stop himself from letting them drop to the floor.

“If you two need some privacy…” Jacob trails off, already taking a step back.

“No, we’re fine, Jacob. Thank you.” Hermann pulls the blankets up high and that’s the end of the discussion for now.

Newt refuses to meet his father’s eye while he finishes getting ready for the night. The ferry ride back to Hong Kong the next morning is very tense, but Hermann manages to talk to the elder Geiszlers without much of an issue. Towards Newt, he remains impassive and neutral, which is perhaps the worst thing of all. Newt wants Hermann to be angry enough to shout at him so that he can shout back, loud and angry and abrasive. 

Worse, this means they pass a work day in tense silence and Newt doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know if this means what they had is over or if it's just a fight.

 

The next time he speaks to Hermann is when he slinks into his room later that night, after having dinner and spending time with his father and uncle. Hermann’s already hunched over his desk, working on something and he doesn’t look up when Newt enters. This is not going to pass, though. Newt refuses to let it pass like this.

“Can you at least talk to me?” Newt asks, still standing in the doorway. “I didn’t fuck up that bad, and you know it.”

Hermann sighs and turns to face Newt. “I know that. I apologize if I was dramatic.”

“Why did you react like that?” Newt shifts from one foot to the other, wringing his hands. “Were you mad that I was treating you like- like-” He bites his lip.

The look on Hermann’s face is one of confusion as he knits his brow together. “Treating me like what precisely?”

“Like my boyfriend,” he blurts out. “To my dad. Like I was trying to make my dad believe our relationship is something it’s not.”

“This is news to me.” Hermann blinks at him a few times, and he looks even more confused than before.

“So you didn’t mind?” 

“Being your boyfriend? We weren’t using labels the whole while, but I’d assumed based on other developments that we were already at a stage where that label is appropriate.”

“You can’t just assume that someone’s your boyfriend just because you’ve been sleeping with him for a few months,” Newt explains, and he feels the earliest edge of sadness and something a bit too similar to anger welling up in his chest.

“I’d assumed because we love each other we could at least-”

“Don’t say that!” Newt snaps. “Don’t just say that like that.”

Hermann rises to his feet, so he’s facing Newt properly as they argue. He’s never been one to argue at differing levels, always coming down from his ladder for their spats or insisting they talk serious issues out at the table. Hermann’s better at this than Newt likes to give him credit for.

“What do you want me to say, then?” Hermann offers, his tone soft, almost soothing. Newt almost falls for it, but he refuses.

“I want you to stop saying anything. I just want you to stop, okay?” Newt says instead of giving in. “I want all of this to stop because it’s torturing me.”

“I’m  _ torturing  _ you?” Hermann takes a step back and Newt hates the look on Hermann’s face the way he hates anything that hurts Hermann. “Then there’s really no point in continuing like this, is there? I’m not going to force you to be with me if you don’t want to be- if it hurts you. I never intended to hurt you, Newton.”

“Then why did you keep doing it?” Newt casts his glance down, rubs awkwardly at his forearm. “Why did you keep saying it when you didn’t mean it?”

“What are you on about? What have I been telling you precisely?”

“You keep telling me that you love me and I know you don’t, not really. And I’m an idiot who can’t stop saying it to you and I just- I can’t handle this anymore. I can’t handle having but not really having, I don’t care if the world is ending and I’m going to die alone. I don’t care. I deserve better.”

For a moment, Newt thinks he’s floating in a void, that there’s no air in the room. Hermann actually staggers backward, clutches the chair he’d just risen from. It looks almost as if he’s been punched in the gut, hit with something too hard for his usual quick wit to recover from. Newt wants to pull every word he’d just said back into his mouth, to take them back. It’s not true. He wants to keep this going forever, so long as Hermann stops looking at him like this.

“You  _ know  _ I don’t  _ love  _ you?” Hermann exhales at length, gritted out low. “Where’s this evidence, please tell me.”

“I- I-” Newt sputters. “I don’t need evidence!”

“Maybe it’s for the best to end this now, then,” Hermann allows himself to drop back into his chair. “To maintain the last shred of respect I have for you in our working relationship.” The words don’t carry any real bite, they’re defensive but not intended to be cruel. They’re intended, Newt realizes, to protect the fact that Hermann is hurt.

“Maybe it is.”

“I apologize if my feelings for you did not live up to your expectations, Newton. I had thought I loved you as best as I could, but if I come up short that is truly a failing that I must look into for my own heart.”

Without thinking, Newt strides forward and moves to his knees in front of the chair. He takes Hermann’s hands in his own.

“Herms- I-”

“I’m through talking about this, if you’d at least give me that.” Hermann withdraws his hands, folds them neatly in his lap. Now the anger’s rising, Newt knows. “You must truly think I’m an awful person, an automaton, for continuing like that without loving you. So I ask that you tell me why you continued, feeling I was mistreating you?”

“Because I love you,” Newt admits, unmoving.

“Yes, well. Please excuse me for not taking that at face value, as I think it’s only fair after you’ve done me the discourtesy for months.”

“I’m sorry- I misunderstood and I was just too much of an idiot-”

“Please just go. I don’t want to see you right now.”

For a moment, Newt panics because he’s not sure where to go, he’s forgotten that he still has his own room. With that thought, the full weight of the mistake he’s made, the error a simple conversation could have undone, pushes down on him. He’s sharing a life with someone, or he was.

He rises slowly to his feet, using the desk as leverage to stand. “Fine, I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone.” It’s not that simple, he thinks, when he still has to go into work the next day and see Hermann.

 

Naturally, Newt follows his instinct to not go to his own room and instead he leaves the Shatterdome altogether, finding his way to his father’s hotel room. He’s greeted at the doorway by a bleary eyed Jacob, clearly already half asleep, and his uncle giving him concerned looks from an armchair.

They both fret over him for a few moments, worried that he looks stressed or exhausted, insisting that he sits on the edge of the bed to relax and kick off his shoes. It’s good, because it gives Newt time to collect his thoughts and not revert into a blubbering sixteen year old boy, fresh off of his first romantic disappointment.

“I fucked up,” he says at length. “I fucked everything up with Hermann.”

“I doubt you’ve ruined your relationship so completely,” Jacob comments.

“Was this about your fight last night?” Illia supplies. “He cannot still be angry that you kept him out so late.”

“I went to talk to him about him still being pissy about last night, yeah.” Newt frowns, fidgets uselessly with his hands.

“And then?”

“And then I accused him of not loving me. Of lying to me and the look on his face, Dad, it was too much.”

“That’s not something you can’t come back from,” Jacob says, in an attempt to comfort. He sits by Newt, rubbing his back.

“I don’t think that’s true. He said he can’t respect me anymore, that he doesn’t want to see me and I deserve that, you know? I’ve been telling him I love him and hearing him say it back and then discrediting his feelings over and over again.”

“You didn’t know he actually loved you.”

“That’s not an excuse- I could have talked to him about it. I could have stopped saying it. I could have believed him. I didn’t even do him the credit of thinking he’s a good person, you know? Just acting like he kept me on the line for convenience and for comfort and for-” Newt stops himself then and blushes. “You know.”

“Disgusting, Newt,” Illia cuts in, teasing. “I thought for sure you were saving yourself for marriage.”

That brings a smile to Newt’s face and he turns to shoot his uncle a look.

“Newt,” Jacob draws his attention back to him. “I can’t say for certain that you fucked this up forever, but I can say that if you really love him, and if he really loves you, there’s a chance you can talk this out. Right now’s probably not the best time. You’re upset, he’s upset, you need to give him space.”

“I’m such an idiot. I had everything I wanted, everything I’ve wanted for so long, and I couldn’t let myself believe it and I ruined it.” Newt buries his face in his hands. He’s too frustrated with himself to cry, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like crying.

“It’s alright,” Jacob continues. “Hey, we all make mistakes in our love lives, and we move on, don’t we?”

“He’s the only person I’ve ever been in love with,” Newt mutters into his hands. “He’s the only person I’ve ever wanted to be in love with, I ever want to be in love with. And I just thought it would be easier to be miserable than deal with what that really meant to me.”

“You can’t just speak into your hands, son.”

Newt sits up straight, stares ahead to the wall in the hotel room. “I don’t know how to handle the possibility that they only reason I don’t get my happily ever after is because we don’t get the chance to save the world. So it was easier to just- latch onto the idea that Hermann didn’t want to be with me the way I wanted to be with him. To feed that insecurity that I’m not deserving of love, rather than just listen to what he was saying.”

“He’s not particularly affectionate, he’s a bit more withdrawn,” Jacob adds. “It’s easy to read into it, I understand.”

“He kissed me in front of you, he’d never- he wouldn’t do something like that lightly. Just because. No, he’s not always as open as other people but I’ve- I’ve done our whole relationship a disservice.”

“So maybe you’ve got to do it the service of not giving up so easily, hmm?” Jacob offers a smile and bumps his shoulder against Newt’s.

“I hate when you’re right.” Newt leans in, rests his head on Jacob’s shoulder.

“So do I,” Illia quips. “Can we go to bed now or is the boy going to have another crisis?”

Chuckling, Newt collects himself and stands. “I’m leaving, it should be early enough I can get a full night’s sleep before work tomorrow. I’m gonna need it.”

Jacob stands likewise and pulls his son into a hug. It’s healing, Newt thinks, to be loved this way by his family. He’s never thought much of how fortunate he is to have this, people who show their love freely and openly but maybe he needs to remember that not everyone’s had this luck. Maybe some people show their love in their own ways.

 

Newt does not sleep that night. There was never a reality where he was going to sleep that night and he knows it, and his father knew it when he sent Newt on his way back to the ‘dome. The best he can do is lay in his back in bed and pretend that he’s not profoundly uncomfortable, that he’s not grown far too used to having someone in bed beside him. (Or that he’s gotten used to the comfort of Hermann’s excessive amount of pillows.) He’s a moron, a lonely moron in a cramped room. And the shirt he wants to wear tomorrow is in Hermann’s room and that seems like the worst possible thing of all.

He imagines, as he lays in bed, that when he comes to work there will be a few boxes crowded around his desk. They’ll contain every single thing he’s left in Hermann’s room and everything that’s drifted to Hermann’s side of the lab. There will be a paper on the desk and the paper will be a copy of Hermann’s request to be moved to another Shatterdome, to be sent at least to another space so he never has to see Newt again.

In truth, Newt knows this isn’t likely how it will be. Newt’s anxiety works like this, though, it plays the worst case scenario and works its way forward to something more likely. Tense silence, the scrape of chalk on Hermann’s board. A new normal where Newt’s things will creep back into his life and maybe Hermann will keep one of his shirts to sleep in but Newt will never know about it. He’ll assume the shirt has been lost somewhere and that’s that. Or he’ll know exactly where it’s gone and let Hermann keep it as a reminder, even if he’s given no such grace.

The morning comes, no matter how much sleep he manages, and the lab he steps into is quiet. As a peace offering, he’s grabbed two coffees from the mess hall and he’s just about to set his own on the desk when he notices a still warm mug of tea sitting on his desk. It’s nearly enough to break him.

Hermann’s seated at one of his desks, drinking from his own mug, likely his second cup of the morning. Newt should have known that coffee would not be a necessary offering. He wanted to provide something, though.

“Thanks,” Newt calls out. “For the- for the tea.”

The response he receives is a hum, not unpleasant, but not an actual verbal response.

“Listen, Hermann,” Newt continues. “I know you want your space and I respect that, but I’d really like to talk about last night. If you’re willing to. I don’t want this conversation to be over yet, but I understand if you’re done.”

On the other side of the lab, there’s the rustling of Hermann removing his grandpa glasses and turning to face Newt.

“Pull up a chair,” Hermann answers.

This is all the cue Newt needs to drag a chair across the way, so he’s seated next to Hermann, nearly at a ninety degree angle. After a moment’s hesitation, Hermann reaches for his hand, running a finger along the back first, and then his palm.

“I love you, Newton,” Hermann says simply. “As in I’m in love with you. And I want you to be able to know that and feel that acutely, every moment of your life. You deserve that much.”

Newt feels warm all over, but he’s also fighting with the feeling that there’s a clause coming. An exception, something to devastate him. Hermann takes a breath and Newt steels himself.

“However,” Hermann continues. “I am allowed to feel hurt by your actions, even if I’ve no doubt they came from a place of insecurity. I am allowed to want some distance because you misunderstood my intentions which, I think, were spelled out plainly for you. The same as how you are allowed to feel hurt because you did not understand my intentions.”

“I wasn’t exactly- I didn’t think you were being malicious,” Newt defends. “I just assumed you didn’t think much of my feelings, or figured they were less than- less than something.”

“I think the world of your feelings, believe it or not.” Hermann’s finger has ventured to his inner wrist, resting on his pulse point. “I would like to spend the rest of my life becoming intimately acquainted with your feelings.”

“But that might be a short amount of time.”

“It might, yes,” Hermann says and the words carry a finality. “Interestingly enough, I think you and I have different understandings of how we want to spend the end of the world.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I believe you know the value of having someone, and are lucky that you’ve found someone you care for. But I- well if I’m going to die horrifically and young, the only romantic entanglements I’m going to bother with are the sort that I’d want to last forever.”

“Hermann, I got everything so fucked up. I’m sorry.” Newt tentatively reaches for his knee.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about respecting you. I’m still hurt, I cannot deny that, but I was perhaps a bit too dramatic when I implied I wanted to end our relationship.”

Newt squeezes Hermann’s knee, feeling bolder. “I understand why you reacted that way. If I thought you didn’t love me, or were lying, I should have talked to you about it. Because you’re right, it did make me think incorrectly of you, and it did make me assume negatively about you.”

“I don’t understand how this happened in the first place.”

“The first time I told you I loved you, you just looked at me, said it back, and went back to what you were doing.”

“I’m sorry if my response was not appropriate. I- while I appreciate a grand gesture I also have always felt that my love for you is as natural as any other part of me.”

“God, it’s not lack of romance with you, you’re just a big, overly romantic sap.”

“I am no such thing.” Hermann narrows his eyes at Newt, but doesn’t move away when Newt moves forward to kiss him softly. He is, Newt knows, or is realizing.

“We’re good, right?” Newt asks, and that’s not quite what he means.

“We’re still together, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Newt kisses him again, resisting the temptation to all but climb into Hermann’s lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t think about what you might be thinking.” Hermann brings a hand to his face, lovingly cups his cheek. “I wish I understood what was going on in that head of yours, and I wish I had some insight into your insecurities, but we’re going to work through this, and I’m going to love you so well.”

Newt grins, feeling dopey in such a pleased way, and he ventures yet another kiss. “You can start loving me well right now.”

“I’d love to but-”

“But?”

“But we have work to do,” Hermann chides when he pulls away. “And my tea is getting cold.”

Newt chuckles when he pulls away, patting Hermann’s knee before he rises to his feet. Hermann pulls him down for another lingering kiss, a kiss with a promise that this conversation is not done. Will never truly be done. There’s certainly work to be done, a future to build, and tragedy to avoid. At least for today, though, Newt feels better. There’s time, regardless, until the next attack, until his father leaves, to grow and know each other better. Time to prove how much they love each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @ newtguzzler or tumblr (holding strong) @ pendragoff


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